The usual sort of intro... Is Josh Bowler playing? Something about the weather. Is Josh Bowler playing? Perhaps a shit attempt at satire. Is Josh Bowler playing? Maybe some sort of quasi literary observations on the journey. Is Josh Bowler playing? Perhaps mention a tune listened to in the car... IS JOSH FUCKING BOWLER PLAYING OR NOT?
WE DON'T NEED THIS. IT'S HARD ENOUGH WORKING OUT HOW WE'RE GOING TO WIN THE CHAMPIONS LEAGUE WITH A BUDGET OF DROPPED COINS FROM UNDERNEATH THE BIG ONE AND THE TERRY'S CARPETS SPONSORSHIP MONEY WITHOUT MEDIOCRE PREMIER LEAGUE CLUBS TRYING TO TAKE OUR FAMILY SILVER FOR A SONG...
He's playing. It's ok. Breathe out. For tonight.
---
It's hard to describe the first bit. We kind of dominate without dominating. Essentially, Blackburn do absolutely nothing and we press really well. They can't get out, but we can't get through. Bowler has a shot from a ball that breaks to him blocked. Madine even wins a ball with some closing down. He's so shocked that he just passes it against his man as this has literally never happened to him before.
We're playing well though. More of this and we'll unlock them eventually. It's a matter of time.
They score. It's a piece of piss break away, ball up the middle, the scruffy get that scores all their goals scores their goal and suddenly there's noise from the east. If you don't make chances you won't take chances and then other team will score from their first attack and this, my friends, is football when you aren't Manchester City.
We look gutted for a bit. They look happy enough to continue to not do a lot but also not let us through. There is a small collection of half chances, A flick from Gaz creates a vaguely threatening far post moment. Dougall takes a great deep corner. Gaz charges in. The ball hits him in the face like he's recently read a copy of 'how to head a ball' by J. Bowler. Bowler himself has a shot that curls and dips but is always 3 yards over on the turn from superb Yates control. A deep ball is swung to the back of the six yard. Gaz and Jerry show their Yorke and Cole style telepathy by jumping in the same space and putting each other off.
Rover's are happy enough to watch us not really getting very close and occasionally break. I think they muster one more shot in the half. Two at most.
Marvin has it. He's got people outside him but he's seen something and pinged a lovely flighted ball from deep. Thompson has gone round the outside. He's taken it, raced into the box, someone gets a toe on it, the ball breaks and then he's clattered with an ankle breaker of a challenge. It's no penalty because the ref has followed the ball and the tackle was late and linesmen don't actually do anything so useful as watch the game and help the referee or owt like that.
---
---
It's hard to describe the first bit. We kind of dominate without dominating. Essentially, Blackburn do absolutely nothing and we press really well. They can't get out, but we can't get through. Bowler has a shot from a ball that breaks to him blocked. Madine even wins a ball with some closing down. He's so shocked that he just passes it against his man as this has literally never happened to him before.
We're playing well though. More of this and we'll unlock them eventually. It's a matter of time.
They score. It's a piece of piss break away, ball up the middle, the scruffy get that scores all their goals scores their goal and suddenly there's noise from the east. If you don't make chances you won't take chances and then other team will score from their first attack and this, my friends, is football when you aren't Manchester City.
We look gutted for a bit. They look happy enough to continue to not do a lot but also not let us through. There is a small collection of half chances, A flick from Gaz creates a vaguely threatening far post moment. Dougall takes a great deep corner. Gaz charges in. The ball hits him in the face like he's recently read a copy of 'how to head a ball' by J. Bowler. Bowler himself has a shot that curls and dips but is always 3 yards over on the turn from superb Yates control. A deep ball is swung to the back of the six yard. Gaz and Jerry show their Yorke and Cole style telepathy by jumping in the same space and putting each other off.
Rover's are happy enough to watch us not really getting very close and occasionally break. I think they muster one more shot in the half. Two at most.
Marvin has it. He's got people outside him but he's seen something and pinged a lovely flighted ball from deep. Thompson has gone round the outside. He's taken it, raced into the box, someone gets a toe on it, the ball breaks and then he's clattered with an ankle breaker of a challenge. It's no penalty because the ref has followed the ball and the tackle was late and linesmen don't actually do anything so useful as watch the game and help the referee or owt like that.
---
It's been neither fish nor fowl. We were decent enough for a bit, we've also looked frustrated, been loose with the ball and struggled to make anything. Lets have that energetic press back. We look a bit fearful to be honest. Fuck it lads. Get at them.
---
We don't. Rovers have two golden chances. We help them to a third by generally faffing about and looking confused. No one wants the ball. Grimmy doesn't want the ball. Marvin and Ethan definitely don't want the ball. They decide to celebrate not really wanting the ball by playing hopeless triangles between each other and then giving it away. It is not the return of the energetic press. Jezza and Gaz might as well just sit down on the half way line cos there's no one to press cos we're incapable of getting the ball more than halfway out of our own half.
Some time passes where I think 'fuck me, I am going to have to write this shit up into a blog' and wonder 'why?' Their manager looks like a boring golf club pro. He looks like the kind of man who says 'I love camping!' but owns a camper van not a tent and has all his things ironed and laid out when he goes what he calls 'camping' but is really 'driving a big luxury van house to a field. He definitely has a gas barbecue that's really clean. Fuck me! we have a move of more than two passes that isn't twanging it at Gary (been a while since he's scored any) Goals hopefully. It's a passable football move but at the end Lavs lashes wide.
There's a little fitful burst of what seems vaguely like action and intent. Lavs scampers away, he does his man with a brilliant little drag and shimmy... Go on Shayne! Here we go! He passes straight into the lad shadowing him back.
Rover's decide to have another go at killing the game, it takes both a brilliant Grimmy save and for them to blast the rebound wide to keep us in it.
Jerry gets loose this time but he passes into a defender as well. Gaz has a breather with his hands on his hips.
Frustration abounds. Fucking get up Madine! What's that Thompson? Fucking hurry up! C'mon. Good lad Gabs, oh, for fuck's sake. Don't knock it square! Get down the line. MOVE! Fucking hell. Don't give it to Marvin. Fuck off, you've given it to Marvin. Williams! Get tight. Fuck off Dougall. Fucking hell. Get up!
The natives are frustrated. It's a frustrating game. We've got no rhythm. Nothing is quite breaking either. It's not that we're not trying, far from it, it's just everything is, well, a bit shit and when it's not shit, every 50/50 seems to fall as a 60/40 for them. It clearly needs changing but we've got no other midfielders to change it. The sexy football types are all broken and what largely worked against the last two opponents isn't working against this lot. We've no calming presence, no sense that we're in control of what we're doing.
A corner! It drops to Bowler, he controls, buys space. Here is where he saves this game, ignites the fuse, we spark into life, I visualise a glorious 25 yard drive, the whole ground throbbing with his song. What transpires is not quite that. He gets robbed of the ball - they streak up the pitch, all the way. Josh races back but he's never going to get there. Grimmy does though, low to his left. A superb stop, getting a strong hand to a near perfect, hard, bottom corner effort. Bowler should be all over Grimmy, thanking him, but he's just muttering to himself in the D as he waits for the corner.
We break in return. Josh Bowler accelerates. Josh Bowler gets clothes lined. Maybe Forest reserves would be more fun than this shit to be fair. Dickheads writing letters or not.
Lots more frustration. What the fuck is that? Fucking press! What's the point? Why are you fucking about? Go on! Fucking hell pass it to a fucking tangerine shirt for fucks sake. Not strong enough! Not strong enough! He's wrong fucking side. Again. C'mon. Who is that to? Fucking hell.
Thompson has been energetic and he goes on another run. Some of his runs have gone nowhere but he likes a tangle and has managed to come out on top a few times. This time, he bursts down the line and slips in Jerry. Yates makes space, a sidefoot effort. A save. Fairly comfortable...
Theo comes on. He gallops about with the ball bouncing around him until eventually he smashes one first time. It goes in, but only in an imaginary goal that's three goals higher than the actual goal. The ground groans, but one lad in the North claps him for having a go. Fair play.
A corner... Williams ghosts in! It's in! It's not. From where I am, it looked like it went through the net but I'm guessing it went over the top. Rovers do some generally crap falling over and getting cramp and suchlike. I'm bored of this game. I actively dislike this game.
Theo wins a free kick right next to the box...There's a big build up. He knocks it back to DT who winds up a big drive, but like a golfer slicing over a ball, all the effort of the shot is dissipated as he cracks it into the ground and into the wall. Poveda picks it up... he's looked handy to be honest and (to be frank, this isn't the greatest reportage in the dubious history of this blog), he runs about with the ball and something happens and I think we hit the bar. I get my foot stuck under the seat as I half jump in frustration and almost joy. It hurts. It's that kind of night. --- Sometimes football is like this. We're a middling side when everyone is fit, but everyone isn't fit. We've done good things in the last 3 games but tonight, the lack of a plan B was evident, but then, that's because plan B was plan A and plan A is on the treatment table. Rovers weren't daunted by the press for very long and we couldn't maintain the energy anyway. We were really wobbly at the back, but we won't simply sit in and do two banks and probably, on balance, as ugly as tonight was (and it was) that's the right thing to do as we're trying to go from a side that hopes to not lose and therefore maybe get luck and win, to a side that wins by attacking. The attacking was shit and we were crap, but we did create a bit and it's the inevitable and delayed impact of having to revert to the reductive midfield of the previous manager. I hope the magic sponge is working...
We weren't very good, we had no luck and when I get in the car, somebody is paying 'experts' to go on the radio and give insights like 'Man City have quality all over the pitch' whilst I look forward to driving an hour home, writing a blog about a shite game for free and getting up at 6.30 to drive to work whilst those blokes probably lounge in bed till noon and then go on the radio and say 'y'know what, I can't see past City for the title this year Alan.' and get paid more money for that shit than I do for going to an actual job.
That's life though. That's English football. A few teams purr about the pitch looking class almost every week, whilst most others are shit sometimes and if you can be a bit less shit than the other sides then you'll do ok.
Keep it in perspective.
Onward.
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